Sweetness
by Willie2186
Summary: Tired of his relatives' neglect, Harry escapes to the Weasleys'. It will be a painful summer, but Ron plans on helping Harry through it. *Minor spoilers and possible slash.* Dedicated to Ronweasley1029 :o)
1. Escape or Arrival

Disclaimer: God these are so stupid!! I don't own Harry Potter or any part of his world; J.K. Rowling does; Warner Bros. think they do. I do, however, own this storyline.plot.thing.  
  
A/N: Hey it's me again!!! This is my third story so far (oh yeah, I'm on a roll!). Don't worry, more chapters will follow. This will be centered around Harry and Ron. I love those two; their friendship simply fascinates me. As for this story, I really don't know if it's slash or not (Harry and Ron slash are soooo cute!). It all depends on how you interpret it. When I thought it up, it seemed a little slashy to me; however, you may see it as just a really close bond between two friends. But if you don't go for slash and are a homophobe then, to be on the safe side, don't read this. I don't want your reviews telling me what a sick scum I am for writing slash. Just leave. This really wasn't meant to be a sequel to my last story, "Helpless," it just follows in that sort of time sequence.if you get my meaning. The title comes from Jimmy Eat World's "Sweetness." However this IS NOT a song fic. I personally don't really care for those. The closest I'll get to a song fic is that I'll include the lyrics at the *end* of the story/chapter. No there won't be any lyrics in this. That song didn't inspire this story, but I just think the song sort of fits it. I really like reviews, so please do the right thing and review. I accept helpful criticism just as long as you don't nit-pick. Flames will be used to warm my hands.  
  
**Before I begin, I would like to thank everyone who reviewed "Helpless." I would also like to give a personal 'thank you' to Ronweasley1029, who is the author of "So, Is Everybody This Lonely When They're In Love?". I consider him to be an amazing author and am flattered at the wonderful compliments he gave my story and my writing. He really boosted my confidence and got me off my lazy ass to post this new story. I am truly honored and grateful. So I am dedicating this story to him. Thank you and enjoy!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "Sweetness" ch. 1: Escape or Arrival by: Kate  
  
  
  
Harry checked the digital clock on his bedside table: 12:45 a.m. His aunt, uncle, and cousin were probably in a deep slumber by now. The 15 yr. old climbed out, fully dressed in a T-shirt ("Quidditch: Just Catch It!") and jeans, from under the covers and walked over to his large trunk. He flicked on the nearby desk lamp, and kneeled in front of the trunk. Raising the lid, he peered inside, checking the contents to see that he had everything. He stood and wandered over to his wardrobe and opened it; rummaging through the drawers, he grabbed a few extra pairs of socks and boxers. He also pulled out a couple of warm turtleneck sweaters that Sirius had sent him. Harry wasn't planning on coming back to the Dursleys' this year, so he wanted to make sure he had everything. He caught his reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe door, and turned to study himself.  
  
Harry had never been one to be concerned with his appearance, but he was pleased with what he saw now. Long hours of Quidditch training had given him some muscle tone and, although he was still pretty lean, he was no longer scrawny with nobly knees. He had even grown a couple inches, though he was still below normal height and Ron, who was several months older, still towered over him. His hair, still unruly and black as night, was a bit longer now. There were even pieces he could now tuck behind his ears. The 5th year's hair had a constant "wind-swept" look about it from him running his fingers through it, a habit he had picked up on. His emerald eyes no longer held a look of childish innocence, but one of maturity and of a boy who has seen too much for his age. His voice had even deepened.a little. Harry smirked and returned to his clothes hunting.  
  
He pulled out his favorite pair of pants; soft cotton patterned with little Golden Snitches and broomsticks, that Mrs. Weasley had made for him. Harry had gotten them for his birthday this year and had been using them, along with a random T-shirt, as pajamas. The raven-haired boy ran his hand over the fabric, thinking fondly of the Weasleys.and Ron. *I'm glad I decided to do this. There's just no way I can stay in this Hell all summer. Dumbledore will understand. I just can't stand their silences and scornful looks anymore.* He sighed. His stay with the Dursleys had been very trying so far. His aunt, uncle, and cousin were now ignoring him. Completely. The only time Harry's presence was acknowledged was when Aunt Petunia placed a small plate of food in front of him. They didn't even mind leaving him home alone anymore. This silent world caused Harry to keep remembering the night of the Third Task. The images would play over and over, like a broken record.  
  
He needed distraction and he needed his friends. He would have Ron send a letter to Hermione, inviting her to stay over. *That is, if she isn't in Bulgaria with Krum,* Harry thought. He packed the rest of his clothes and, after checking his nightstand for any forgotten quills or pictures as well as the loose floorboards, and shut and locked his trunk. He turned off the lamp and picked up one end of his trunk. Inch by painfully slow inch, Harry dragged the heavy trunk out of his room and down the stairs, minding the squeaky step. He had no problems getting his trunk to the front door, next to which, on a table, he had left Hedwig earlier so that he wouldn't be hindered by her cage when going downstairs. However, just as Harry began to ease the door open, he heard a bed creaking and a soft thudding of bare feet on hardwood flooring. He immediately froze and, not even shutting the door, listened hard. The footsteps were light, so it had to be his aunt who was awake. He waited as the footsteps moved down the hall and into the bathroom. Harry heard the bathroom door shut with a soft click.  
  
He decided that now was the time to get out. Aunt Petunia was less likely to hear him with the bathroom door shut. The bright-eyed teen opened the front door the rest of the way. He heaved his trunk outside, making more noise than he would have liked in his haste. He hurried back inside, roughly grabbed Hedwig's cage, and ran back outside. Having set down the cage, Harry shut the door and leaned against it, breathing like he had just ran a race. While waiting for his heartbeat to slow, Harry surveyed the block. The streetlamps shone brightly in the moonless night.  
  
*Phase 1:done. I'm out. That was pretty close though,* Harry thought. *Hope I got everything. I don't really fancy playing 'Mission Impossible' again.* Emerald eyes locked with amber as he gazed down at the snowy owl in front of him, who stared back.  
  
"What do ya say, Hedwig? Ready to go see the Weasleys'? I know how much you miss Pigwidgeon," Harry said, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. Hedwig ruffled her feathers and hooted importantly, making Harry grin for the first time in several days.  
  
He picked up an end of his trunk and Hedwig's cage and walked to the curb, away from the light of the street lamps. Harry made sure he was a safe distance away from the street, though, remembering his experience with the Night Bus. *Now how do you hail a Night Bus? Stick out your wand hand?* Harry, feeling extremely stupid, stuck out his right arm and waited. After about a minute of waiting and hoping that no one was looking out their window at that moment, a loud bang sounded and a large double-decker bus rumbled to a stop in front of Harry with its headlights blazing. The door opened revealing, to no surprise of Harry's, Stan Shunpike in his usual purple uniform and zits.  
  
" 'Ey, it's you again!" the older boy said in mild surprise. "Now, is it Neville or 'Arry?"  
  
"It's Harry. D'you think you could give me a hand with this?" Harry was tired and feeling a little cranky. He wanted to get to the Weasleys' within this week and was in no mood for idle chitchat.  
  
"Oh sure. So you're 'Arry Potter then, huh?" said Stan, as he picked up an end of Harry's trunk. When Harry replied with a curt "yes," Stan's eyes did the usual scar scan of Harry's forehead. Ernie, the driver gave him a small nod as Harry passed.  
  
Like before, the bus was practically empty. Harry's trunk was placed at the foot of a bed, the same bed he had occupied on his last trip, with the snowy owl's cage on top of it. He gave the Weasleys' address to Ernie and settled onto the bed. Fortunately Stan wasn't in the talking mood either, because he picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet as soon as he sat down in his chair next to Ernie's. Harry settled back into the pillow and closed his eyes. He had a small headache and wanted to get some rest. His thoughts turned to Ron and Hermione and their importance in his life. Sometimes Harry felt as though he was in a storm-tossed sea, lost and frightened. But then Ron and Hermione would come along, like his life raft. He didn't know what he would do if he ever lost them, especially Ron. Last year showed him just how much he needed the tall, lanky boy who's temper was as fiery as his hair. Oh sure, Hermione was special to him too, but Harry and Ron shared something that just wasn't there with Hermione.  
  
Harry was very relieved when Stan came over to inform him that they would be arriving at the Weasleys' residence in about 2 minutes. He was still very tired, not being able to get any sleep with the bus's constant jerking motion of stopping and starting and swerving. The bus came to a sharp halt in front of a large house that looked like it was ready to fall over. Harry looked out the window and smiled to himself. *Home,* he thought.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I'm sorry the first chapter is kinda boring. Trust me it will get better!! Please review, c'mon you know you wanna! You'd want me to if I were reading your story. Next chapter will be up soon.I hope. Oh and can you do me a favor? Read my story "A Winter's Tale" and give me some ideas for a concluding chapter! I'm stuck!! Thanks!  
  
*** This is a little response to those of you who were correcting Ron's age in my previous fic, "Helpless." I put Ron down as 15. Just b/c he is in 4th year doesn't mean he is 14. We don't know Ron's birthday, yet (which is pretty odd b/c we have Hermione's, Harry's, and even the Twins'). He could have one of those early/late b-days.I don't know how that works, but I think he can be 15 depending on when his birthday is. Besides, I like to think of his as older than Harry by a few months. So stop pointing that out! B/c you don't know, anymore than I do, how old Ron really is. 


	2. Late Night or Orange Boxers

Legal Crap: I don't own Harry Potter or anything else that has to do with his world. J.K. Rowling does. I do; however, own this story. If you would like to use this story or any of my other ones for a website, that's fine, as long as I am notified of this and am given the proper credit.and as long as you promise to worship me forever!!!! Mwa- hahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!  
  
A/N: Yay, ch. 2 is here!!! Thank you again to all who reviewed, you are my oxygen. Anyway.like I said before, this may or may not be slash. It depends on how you look at it. When I thought it up, I felt that it was kinda slashy, but that's just me. But if you're a homophobe then just to be on the safe side, don't bother reading this. GO AWAY!!! Lol, j/k. Seriously though, you've been warned, so don't send me hate mail. As always reviews are needed, wanted, desired. Helpful criticism is OK as long as we don't get too picky. Flames will be used to light my cigarettes.wait a tick.I don't smoke! Oh well. Enjoy the story anyway.  
  
****Harry is 14 right now b/c he went to the Weasleys' early. His birthday is July 31st, I believe, and so..well..he hasn't had it yet. OK, then.  
  
Ronweasley1029: As always, thank you for the generous review of ch. 1. Reviews like yours are my reasons for writing. You make me feel so special! Once again, this one's for you! *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "Sweetness" ch. 2: Late Night or Orange Boxers by: Kate  
  
The large purple bus skidded to a stop, causing all the beds to slide at least a foot forward. Harry, himself, ended up flying backward and landing on the hardwood floor with a thump.  
  
"Ottery St. Catchpole, the Weasleys!" Stan formally announced.  
  
"Great," Harry mumbled grumpily, clinging to the bed-frame as he hauled himself up. Stan assisted Harry in carrying his trunk, with Hedwig's cage balanced nicely on top, to the Weasleys' front doorstep.  
  
"Well, so long 'Arry! 'Member, if y'ever need to t'get anywheres, s'long as it's on land, the Night Bus is at cho service." Stan proudly puffed out his chest at the last bit. He grinned and waved good-bye to Harry (not without one last look at his scar of course) and left him standing alone on the doorstep. The bus, whose doors slammed shut behind Stan, was gone with another loud bang.  
  
Harry glanced down at Hedwig and, upon the discovery that she was asleep, became annoyed. "Sure, she sleeps while I'm wondering all over the bloody country." he grumbled. However, he had a more important problem than lack of sleep. As he turned to face the front door, an unpleasant thought crept into his mind. The Weasleys most likely locked their doors at night. And Harry hadn't had a chance to owl them, informing them of his arrival, seeing as his leaving the Durselys was sort of last minute. He sat down on the stoop, feeling dejected.  
  
"Well this is just perfect." Harry folded his arms on his knees and rested his chin. He couldn't use magic to unlock the door, he already was treading on thin ice with the Ministry for *supposedly* using magic outside of school 2nd year. But he certainly couldn't stay out here all night! Harry shivered; it was getting a little chilly. Right, decision made. He stood up and walked towards the front door, pulling out his wand as he did so. He pointed its tip at the knob.and.*click!* The doorknob twisted and, with a click, the door was pulled open. A very exhausted looking Arthur Weasley stood in the doorway, bright red hair visible even in the shadowy foyer.  
  
"Harry?" he questioned, his eyes blinking, trying to get the short boy in front of him in focus. "Harry what God's name are you doing *here?* And at this hour? Come in, come in!" He motioned for Harry to enter and then dodged around him to help hoist up the trunk, with Hedwig's cage still poised on top.  
  
"Why don't we set your things in the living room. We'll get them into Ron's room in the morning."  
  
Harry led the way into the Weasley living room where his trunk was placed next to the large, worn, and slightly sagging couch. The coffee table in front of the couch was strewn with documents, newspaper clippings from The Daily Prophet, and some scrawled notes. A half-empty bottle of ink and a quill sat off to the side of the paper jumble. An empty cup of tea could also be seen, as well as a few ring-shaped stains strategically located on the wooden surface.  
  
"Er.busy night?" questioned Harry, exposing a wry smile. Mr. Weasley stepped around him and sank into the threadbare couch with a sigh.  
  
"*Another* busy night, you mean? Yes, I'm afraid so," replied Mr. Weasley, running a hand over his balding spot. "I got home late, but still had tons of paperwork to do. I was just finishing when I heard the Night Bus outside. It's a wonder the Muggles don't hear those damn things!" Mr. Weasley looked up into Harry's face with the look of a concerned father, which bought a pinprick of painful longing to Harry's heart. "What happened, Harry? We've been worried about you. Granted it's only been a week, but under the circumstances." his voice faded off, and then softly, "Why didn't you owl us? The boys and I would have come for you. As a matter of fact, we were planning on sending a note to your Aunt and Uncle, asking if you could come stay, within the next few days."  
  
Harry was silent for a moment before answering. He didn't want Mr. Weasley to get too worried for fear that he would then tell Mrs. Weasley, and then god knows how she would react. "Well.it's nothing too serious." Harry began, choosing his words carefully, "it's just that they ignored me. Uncle Vernon didn't even nag me about my messy hair once," he smiled. Mr. Weasley didn't smile back, and Harry decided it was no use dodging around the point. "I couldn't stay at a place where I wasn't loved, liked, or even acknowledged. I can't stand to be alone right now," the 14-yr. old finished, feeling awkward. Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to as if to say something, but closed it. He merely gave a small smile, but started and grabbed his pocket watch. "Oh my, it's 1:00 a.m.; you must be beat. You can leave your things here and head up to Ron's room. Just shove him over and kip in his bed for the night; we haven't got the extra bed set up for you yet."  
  
Harry nodded and walked over to his trunk. He pulled out a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and, after saying good night to Mr. Weasley, climbed up the stairs. Upon opening the door to his Ron's room, Harry was greeted by soft snoring coming from across the room. He stepped through the doorway and quietly closed the door behind him. He pulled off his black Converse sneakers and padded silently across to where the youngest Weasley boy lay. Harry smiled down at his best friend's sleeping form; long, lean body stretched over the whole bed, trademark flaming hair a pale bronze in the moonlight, wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt and violently orange boxers ("Canons Keeper"). Harry was surprised to see that he wasn't the only one whom puberty had hit. Even in the pale moonlight, Ron's muscular arms and broad shoulders could be seen. His T-shirt had been pulled up, slightly, exposing a bit of bare, stomach. A thin line of reddish hair could be seen running from Ron's navel and disappearing below the orange waistband of his boxers. Harry unzipped his jeans and replaced them with the pajama bottoms. He then leaned over and nudged Ron.  
  
"Psst, Ron." No answer. Harry shook him a little harder. "C'mon mate, budge up there, will ya?" Ron grunted something unintelligible and rolled onto his side. Harry rolled his eyes and, with a grunt, shoved Ron as hard as he could.  
  
"Bloody 'ell, Mum.jussa few more minutes," Ron mumbled, words slurred by sleep. He propped himself up on one elbow and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He blinked a few times and looked confusedly around the room for the source of his awakening. Harry kneeled on the bed next to the lanky redhead, grinning.  
  
"Hey Ron," he said quietly. Ron's bleary eyes turned to him, slightly unfocused.  
  
"Oh hey Ha-a-a-a-arry," he said, failing to stifle a yawn. And with that he settled back down and closed his eyes.  
  
"You don't mind if I sleep in your bed tonight, do you?" The raven-haired boy asked, lying down next to his companion. The spare bed hasn't been set up yet."  
  
"Mmm-hmm," was the only answer he received. Still smiling to himself, Harry removed his glasses and placed them on the small, scratched bed side table, next to a pile of old parchment and a couple of picture frames.  
  
Harry studied the pictures. They were well-shot candids, most likely taken by Colin Creevey (who told Harry he was doing a special project for the three of them. Harry suspected it had to do with pictures because Colin had found out, and was shocked, that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had very few pictures of each other). One frame held a picture of him, Ron, and Hermione sitting in the Gryffindor common room on the couch, Harry in the middle. They were all dozing. Ron was slouched with his feet on the table in front of them and an arm around Harry. Harry was lying on his side with his head in Ron's lap and legs hanging off the side of the couch. Hermione was on her side as well, with her head resting on Harry's hip and her arm resting on his thigh. Every time she exhaled a piece of hair fluttered in front of her lips. The other picture was of Ron and Harry playing chess. Harry watched himself get beaten *again* by Ron, who was laughing hysterically. Hermione could be seen in the background with a book in her lap and smiling at the two boys.  
  
The bed was a bit small, but so was Harry. As he settled under the covers, a warm feeling spread throughout his body. For the first time in many days, he looked forward to tomorrow.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Sunshine poured in through the small window in Ron Weasley's room, turning his red hair ablaze. He woke up feeling extremely warm, and let out a gasp of surprise when he discovered the cause. He looked down to see a mop of unruly black hair resting on his chest, tickling his neck. His best friend, Harry Potter, was wrapped around him!  
  
"What the-? Bloody hell Harry, wake up, I'm dying!" he said, pushing the smaller boy off of him. Harry rolled over with a grunt and began to stir. Ron pushed himself into a sitting position and folded his legs, watching Harry. Harry lay on his stomach a moment longer before sitting up as well.  
  
"Mornin' Ron. Your bed is so comfy!" he grinned.  
  
"Yeah, which reminds me. Why were *you* in it?" Ron questioned. He tried to put a stern, annoyed expression on his face, but failed at the look of his tousled and sleepy friend. Harry fumbled blindly for a moment before retrieving his glasses off the table.  
  
"'Cus there was no place else for me to sleep. You don't expect poor old me to sleep on the couch, do you?" Harry made a pout. He found his face shoved into the pillow, as an answer. Ron unfolded his lanky frame and slid off the bed in search of clean clothes. He picked a pair of jeans off the floor and sniffed them. Throwing them aside with a grimace, he grabbed another pair from a chair and, after testing their odor, pulled them on. He then removed his T-shirt and yanked on a blue and yellow striped, Muggle Rugby shirt. He turned around to find Harry already dressed in a pair of dark brown corduroys and a wrinkled, white dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up, with a lopsided grin.  
  
*Wow,* Ron thought,* he looks good. He's been through so much and he looks good. He looks pretty damn adorable, too.* Ron gave a gasp. *Where did that come from?* Harry must have seen the confused look on his face, because he questioned Ron about it.  
  
"Hey man, you alright?" Ron snapped to attention. He grinned.  
  
"Fine! I was.I was."  
  
"Ron, Harry, Fred, George!" Mrs. Weasley's voice floated into Ron's bedroom. Harry was amazed how far her voice could carry. "Breakfast! The rest of us are waiting! Fred, George that door had better be open!"  
  
"Perfect timing, I'm starved." Harry rubbed his stomach. He turned back to Ron. "You were saying something, Ron?"  
  
*Damn,* Ron thought. "Er, yeah. I.was.," and then he caught the look in Harry's face. His large emerald eyes were full of quiet questioning, and something else that Ron couldn't quite grasp. He moved toward Harry, his 6'2 inches dwarfing Harry's 5'5 inches. He took in the younger boy standing in front of him. *He looks so young, but yet so old. But he looks sad, too. What he must have been going through these past few days.* "I was just going to say that I'm *really* glad you're here, Harry." And with that Ron enveloped Harry in a tight hug. Harry, though a little taken aback, took in its warmth and rested his head against Ron's chest (which wasn't hard, seeing as his head pretty came just below Ron's chin).  
  
"Boys! Are you coming? Fred, George are you up yet?" Harry and Ron pulled away, with hands stuffed in pockets and an awkward shuffling of feet. Ron reached out and ruffled Harry's raven tresses.  
  
"C'mon shrimp," he laughed, "let's see if you're as fast on the ground as you are in the air." Ron shoved Harry onto the bed and bolted out of the room.  
  
"Hey!" Harry laughed, regaining his footing and following after the red head. *Yes, this is where I belong. Maybe I won't have as hard a time coping with last year than I thought.*  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
No, this won't be the end. Although, frankly, I have no clue where this story is going, but we'll find out when we get there. Maybe I should leave it as is. What do you think? Does it have a fighting chance? A future? A wife, kids, and a house? (Crickets chirp as confused looks are exchanged). Please review!!! This encourages me to continue. Don't forget to look for my next installation of "A Winter's Tale" in the Lord of the Rings section! I love you all!!!! 


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